Terms Of Endearment

"I traded housekeeping for sex!"

A statement made so casually, meant in jest ~ but as always, the simplest things strike the deepest.

Since this new life has overtaken me, I have traded usefulness for uselessness, excitement for apathy, liveliness for hollowness. Where I used to hold down a meaningful job, I now wallow in unemployment. Instead of the sparkling home I once enjoyed, we fight a losing battle with dust and magazines, laundry and unmade beds.

The most common sight on any given day sees me sitting curled up in a corner of the sofa, laptop in hand, tv on, lost in thought. There are so many things I want to do ~ NEED to do ~ but it's as if there are lead weights attached to my arms and legs and I am unable to perform even the simplest of tasks. Eventually, some time before noon, I'll end up in tears. I'll berate myself for being what I am: sick, stupid, useless, lazy. Before long will come the promises that I know I won't keep: tomorrow I WILL clean! I'll make sure that the bathrooms are done and the laundry is finished. A time is set ...

And tomorrow when that time comes, I'm back on that sofa, eyes closed, staring into space wondering what happened to the once-energetic woman who cleaned and coached and baked and raised children. How did this happen?

Yes, folks, this is the face of depression in all its ugly truth.

What's odd is that while the vast majority of women lose interest in sex as well as everything else when they suffer from depression, I do not. Despite taking a whackload of medication that should leave me in a stupor and sexless, I am still wildly turned on by my husband. Which brings us to where we are tonight.

My son is coming to visit. I cannot, in all my pride, have him see my home in this state of disarray. So I swallowed my pride and asked my husband to help me with it. While most people think this should be the norm, it's important to note that he works very long hours, while I don't work at all; but I knew I wouldn't get it done if I didn't have some sort of help. So I asked: just do whichever thing you hate least!

I apologized, at one point, for the fact that it was so dusty. His very cheerful reaction was, "I traded housekeeping for sex!" meaning his first wife kept a much tidier home, but .... well, you know where this is going.

What he can't possibly know is how much it stings. For five years I have been working with a therapist who has banged his head against his desk repeatedly as I have told him that my only worth is through sexual engagement. Time and time again I have shared my intimate thoughts concerning my ability to hold or lose those I love, through sex.

Could it be I was right all along? Is it true that my only value to others is through what I can perform with my body? Because if it is, I'm in really big trouble.